Now I watch young women in the city laugh about not knowing how to cook. Like it's a personality trait. Like helplessness is charming. And I don't say this to be cruel — I genuinely don't understand when that shift happened. When did not knowing become something to be proud of?

My grandmother used to say that a woman who can feed her family from almost nothing is worth more than gold. Because hard times don't warn you before they arrive. And a jar of homemade tomatoes in February tastes like security. Like love stored in glass 🕯️

I still make my jars every fall. My neighbors in the city think it's funny. I think it's necessary.